


Devoted

by Mottlemoth



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Morning Cuddles, Perfect Boys So In Love, Softness, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29942328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemoth/pseuds/Mottlemoth
Summary: For Greg, there's nothing in the world like waking up next to Mycroft.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 9
Kudos: 141





	Devoted

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is for you, Blue. <3 The softest of softness, with all my love and hugs. 
> 
> (I haven't the tiniest clue what to rate this. I've gone for T because Greg swears and they're naked, but nothing conjugal actually happens. I hope that's cool. Please also let me know if you find it posted anywhere but my AO3 profile. <3)

Sunday morning. Rain drums against the window over the bed, as heavy and cosy as a winter blanket. 

_ Not one fucking foot outside today, _ Greg thinks, stretching out his sleepy bones. He pushes his face into the pillow with a smile. It feels good even to wake up. He seems to have doubled in body weight overnight, now as hefty as a sack of concrete, and there's no need to shift even a gram of it right now. He's exactly where he should be. He's happy to the soul.

Fingertips skim slyly over his side.  _ Good morning,  _ they seem to say.

Greg's smile widens. He cracks open one eye, squinting fondly across the pillows.

The look coming back at him is almost feline: a self-satisfied little smile, grey eyes soft with sleep and bright with amusement, barely open just yet. His hair has dried fluffy after their shower late last night. In the morning light, the touch of ginger in it seems to glow. He has the covers bundled playfully high beneath his chin; their crumple reveals the smallest glimpse of one bare shoulder, its freckled curve and gentle slope, the love-bitten side of his neck.

He's utterly gorgeous, and he knows it. 

He knows that Greg knows it, too. He knows that Greg  _ knows _ he knows. It's all there in his face, that mischievous little glitter in his eyes, and Greg is under no illusions here. Mycroft wears Sunday morning the same way he wears a Saville Row suit.  _ I want something, _ the look says, soft and sly.  _ I've chosen you to give it to me. _

As Mycroft stirs, his smile growing, Greg's heart gives a thump of obedience.

_ I'd build pyramids for you,  _ he thinks, gazing into Mycroft's eyes. _ I'd lead armies into war. _ Beneath the covers, Mycroft's coaxing fingertips trace down to his hip, gliding over intimate skin no-one else is allowed to touch. They beckon gently, easing Greg closer across the bed.  _ I'd bring the whole world to heel, _ he thinks, rolling Mycroft over onto his back, and the little smirk breaks into a grin that sets Greg heart leaping. Only he ever gets to see that grin. It's his reward for loyal service.

It's everything he needs. 

"Hello, dear heart," Mycroft murmurs, petting through his hair. Greg can't wait to cook his breakfast, can't wait to make him coffee. "How did you sleep?"

Greg nuzzles into his husband's neck. 

"I missed you," he says.


End file.
